


Write Like You're Running Out of Time

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Super Dangan Ronpa 2.5
Genre: A fic about writing, Depression, M/M, Multi, Nagito Writes, Post Game, This will have several headcanons, Trauma, death mentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-01-31 10:43:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21444931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nagito writes his thoughts to cope, as time persists, and Nagito further breaks, Hajime and Nagito reread the events Nagito has wrote about in order to come to terms with his trauma, and so that Hajime can understand him.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Nanami Chiaki, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito, Komaeda Nagito & Nanami Chiaki
Comments: 10
Kudos: 127





	1. The Break

Nagito knew this was unhealthy- he wasn’t an idiot. It was out of paranoia, originally, a suggestion from Naegi; to write down his thoughts, a method of coping. 

Nagito started slow, it was Hajime who found him a sizable notebook. The pages were thick, bleached as pale as his hair, soft, black guidelines framed the lightly textured stationary, the book bound with a dark leather. Nagito thought it was perfect, no, he knew it was perfect.

Nagito would write daily, this was non-negotiable, though the timeframe would be a mystery. He would often bring his book to breakfast, writing between the miniscule attempts at consuming the toast he always burned, other days, his peers would find him in the library, crouched over dictionaries or thesauri, searching for the words to properly reflect his subject matter, other times, they wouldn’t see Nagito for hours-days even, it took persistent knocking, and a busted lock before they found the man unconscious at his desk with the tell tale signs of overwork present.

On good days, Nagito would finish around three to five pages, subtle grey gracing the side of his hand, the ghosting of ink now dried. He consistently wrote small, quaint, straight lines and perfect curves, never manifesting in the margin lines. 

On bad days, often the scratching on paper and the incoherent mumbling would be the only thing audible in his cabin. The pages were still clean mind you, he would never sacrifice legibility regardless of his mental state, it simply took a longer time to finish, combined with the often double digit page length, the black on Nagito’s hands and the ache in his shoulders and back was to be expected.

On a level of understanding, his peers knew what Nagito was doing was hurting him. Nagito had clearly shown the signs after all, his clothes baggier, his hair messier, the bags under his eyes ever increasing. However, they were able to justify it, whisking away the moral ramifications of letting him continue. After all, his new found reclusive nature and self isolating brought about a sense of safety. It had been months since the program ended, however the trauma could not be settled so soon. Some were ignorant, simply supporting Nagito with the gift of new stationary, others encouraged the matter as a strategic thing, new pens and notebooks kept Nagito from being a flight risk. It was Fuyuhiko who commented on it once post visiting the pale man, referring to the now dozens of notebooks as his manifesto. Nagito couldn’t argue, both with the gifts he received and the theories on his writing, this was simply par for the course at this point, being questioned on his oddities, trying to keep himself at bay, no reason to argue, to change things, he was okay where he was. The nights in the library, the ink stained hands, his forgotten dinners, long clean desk, Nagito knew one thing, and that was that he needed to write.

* * *

  
  


It took three months for someone to notice. In a rare writing lapse, Hajime and Nagito were together, returning dishes taken from the hotel restaurant before Teruteru and Miharu made their daily rounds. Nagito simply gave a quaint wave, walking slowly, Hajime nodded back, keeping pace with the other man.

Hajime was attentive, a cursed gift from the trauma of the game and Izuru’s influence. In the slow sonter to the restaurant, Hajime picked out several things almost instantly. Nagito hadn’t cut his hair in quite a long time, the ghostly curly mop sitting calmly on his shoulders, Nagito’s hand, the normal one, was stained grey, though the dry skin had shown how desperately Nagito scrubbed at the ink, his clothes were baggy, his shirt hung low past his collar bone, the ghosting of his ribs was ever present, his skin was far paler, the purple rings around his eyes framed the grey irises like antique frames. Nagito looked like spector, a walking ghost of the young man Hajime met on the beach. And it horrified him.

Hajime argued internally, after everything Nagito did-no, they had all done horrific things, they didn’t deserve to suffer-his mental state was horrific, Nagito required a lot of recovery time post wake up, and his ever present trauma was something even Izuru found difficulty with, Nagito Komaeda was an anomaly, which made helping even harder. Though Hajime percists, despite the difficulty, all he wanted was to understand him.

Hajime tried his best, trying to buy his time to insure he was capable of solving the situations he was called for across the island, and making sure that Nagito wasn’t eating himself away at the hands of paper and a pen. Some days were hard, trying to visit Nagito during one of his writing spells, insuring he ate, drank, took breaks for the sake of his good hand. For the most part Hajime was extremely successful, Nagito appeared to getting better, the life in his face appeared to be returning, Mikan didn’t fear for his malnourishment, things were looking alright again. Until they weren’t.

It was the winter, harsh, cold, and dark, the seasonal depression, the grief and horror brought on by the tragedy’s anniversary looking across the island made Hajime a busy man-his role came into effect after the loss of another, he had to take care of everyone, he knew that, he owed it to her, but that didn’t prevent his own struggles.

Hajime Hinata dropped the ball, and he didn’t notice. When someone has an aura of reclusiveness, a ghostly existence, his dissipation from the group wasn’t a matter of concern. The survivors spend their days often separated this time of year, falling into their sense of melancholy and waiting for the holiday to pass. 

It took three days.

Not a sight, not a sound, not an indication of life. There were no dirty dishes, no rants on hope, no self deprecation. There was no tense shoulders, shifting eyes, fearful glances searching for the ghostly man they had come to revere and fear. For three days, Nagito Komaeda did not exist.

Hajime realized the latest of the bunch, after crashing from an exhausting day, he attempted to rest to no avail, feeling stuck, like he had forgotten something and couldn’t escape it. His heart raced, his mind wandered, what was he forgetting-

Hajime shot up, without thinking, he ran, he ran hard, foregoing any shoes he raced to the cabin he knew well.

It was midnight, Hajime slammed, again and again he banged on the door, calling out Nagito’s name with a feeling of absolute desperation. With only the echo of his screams bouncing off the door, he saw no other option, he slammed into the door, praying the deadbolt wasn’t on.

The door slammed against the wall, sending Hajime forward, he breathed heavily, his head whipping wildly. No life in sight, only the strung out books, drained pens, and the ghosting smell of Nagito’s shampoo. Hajime panicked, Nagito wasn’t home- and he had no idea where he was-the classic hoodie Nagito dawned draped over the desk chair, he took it, and ran.

Hajime raced around the island, turning every corner, searching in every place, bringing up the memories that haunted each building. The first four islands were no dice- not sight nor sound. Hajime cringed, the cold December air slapped his face- this was a nightmare- this was a worst case scenario all over again- he needed to find Nagito  _ he needed to find the bomb- _ Hajime breathed raggedly - there was no bomb, no death, no danger, just someone he lo-someone he deeply cared for missing. Hajime had one place to check-and he was horrified.

He stared, looking at the warehouse door with absolute horror. He couldn’t do it  _ he couldn’t see him like that again.  _ Hajime had to convince himself- Nagito was alive, he was breathing, he’d open that door and he’d be okay-  ** _You lost him Hajime-_ ** No. No! He’d be fine. Nagito was was okay.

Hajime breathed a slow, struggled breath, the cold air burned, the smell of smoke haunted his mind, he turned the handle gently, braced himself for the worst, and entered.

* * *

Nagito hated to admit it, but he had always been a cowardly man. He liked to hide, hide behind emotional barriers that kept him safe. His hope held him together in a way nothing else could. He was a child, a child with nothing but money. He was alone, and people did try to care at first, but Nagito knew better. He wasn’t worth caring for, not when his parents were alive, and certainly not now.

Doctor’s visits were the worst- the sad glances from the nurses, the disappointed sighs at test results. Nagito accepted he’d die before high school, without anyone knowing his name. Without love.

By some twist of fate, he lived, must to his own dismay at some points, he was granted an opportunity he felt horrified to take. Being the ultimate lucky student didn’t mean much-why care, he’d die soon anyways, right? He wasn’t even a true ultimate, he was worthless, he didn’t matter.

Emotional connections were Nagito’s nightmare. In a way, that made Hope’s Peak his personal hell. At the same time, he was surrounded by the people that gave him the only semblance of will to continue his existence, the ultimates, his peers, the individuals who granted him his hope. He got close, too close, the budding friendships resulted is an issue, they always did, with injuries and accidents. This did not prevent friendships, no, in fact, Nagito’s peculiar personality only garnered him more attention, more care, when people like that came into Nagito’s life, someone who dedicated herself to care for all of them, Nagito felt the most guilt. He cared for his friends so much, he cared for her, he had no means of repaying that, despite how he pushed, tried his hardest to make things okay for the ultimates he loved dearly, for the sake of their hopes and his, he only made things worse.

The intricate parts of the tragedy are presently lost to time, what exactly happened that day is bound to a group of isolates now, they upheld that guilt, an atonement for their manipulated sins.

* * *

Hajime stared deep into the room. There was no scorch marks, no smoke, no tattered black curtain.

Nagito was curled in the back corner, his mental hand thrown to the other side of the room, his hair disheveled, the curls crushed and matted. He was shaking violently, trying to stabilize his hand to continue writing. 

_ Please p-please. _

Hajime watched intensely, Nagito hadn’t noticed him yet, he didn’t want to cause anything worse, he pressed against the door, watching the man with nothing but heartbreak.

_ W-why? Why can’t I remember her face-why why why. _

Hajime’s watch read 1:07 am, it was here, the anniversary of the tragedy.

Today was the day Chiaki died.

_ You killed her-yyou killed her why can’t you remember her ddamn f-face! _

Nagito slammed the book down, his voice rising in volume considerably, echoing across the black walls.

_T-This is why I should have d-died, I can’t remember- I can’t remember and I ddidn’t write soon enough. I killed her! S-she’s gone,,I c-can’t doing this- I need to finish! I c-can’t stop_ _I c-cant lose anyone else. _

* * *

When Nagito woke up from the Neo World Program he was Hajime’s number one priority. Lymphoma and dementia- incurable diseases from the logic of all modern science. It was simple science that Nagito should have died a long time ago.

But he didn’t. Nagito was in his twenties, he was living and breathing. Which only motivated Hajime harder. 

Existing damage could never be undone, Izuru reminded him often, and yet Hajime would argue back, as true as that may be, though Nagito may have damage, he still deserved to live his life without more, if anyone deserved to escape their circumstances, Hajime believed whole heartingly that no one was better deserving than Nagito. Their time on the island, the budding friendship, the experience as World Destroyer, Hajime simply wanted Nagito to experience everything he deserves. Nagito deserved, well, Hajime wanted Nagito to simply feel loved. 

When he sat with Nagito in the hospital, holding his hand, explaining his now clean bill of health. Nagito simply stated, looking at the white of the ceiling. 

_ Hinata-kun- _

Hajime had paused, turning to look at the man. Gentle tears rolled across his cheeks, the look on his face, a soft smile, calm, relaxed eyes. Hajime didn’t know what to do- he hadn’t seen Nagito cry before-

_ Hinata-kun _

Nagito turned, looking into Hajime’s eye. Hajime felt a squeeze on his hand, solid, yet with clear hesitation.

_ Thank you- _

Hajime smiled, the overwhelming sincerity and kindness in his words made Hajime’s heart fill with you.

_ You’re welcome Nagito. _

Hajime was kneeled in front of him- a gentle clasp on Nagito’s shoulders- he still hadn’t registered him yet, a mix between mumbling and yelling, shaking to the bone.

_ You kkilled her y-you’ll kill then too iif you don’t finish you need to finish you need to finish- _

Hajime tried to break him out of it without force, he tried so hard, but the panic set in, he wasn’t coming out, nothing Hajime did work- he breathed, more anxious than he’s ever felt before, reeling his hand back.

The motion collided with Nagito’s cheek, a sudden slap, then utter silence. 

Hajime looks at him, the shaking continued, but his noises were moot, the couldn’t make a sound 

_ Nagito- _

Hajime raises his hand, to gently touch Nagito’s face where he had been slapped moments ago, then suddenly, without warning, Nagito collided with his shoulder, gripping around Hajime with his arms, his shaking indicates how hard he was trying, though Hajime only felt a ghost of touch.

_ H-Hinata- _

_ I’m here- I’m here Nagito _

* * *

Nagito woke up in an unfamiliar bed- the room smelled like citrus and sandalwood, strange, but comforting. 

He observed his surroundings- his hand was on the nightstand, along with his current journal, his coat, which he didn’t remember wearing last night, was at the foot of the bed- he felt residual moisture in curly hair, almost like he had taken a shower last night, but-none of this made sense-Why didn’t he remember?

Hajime scooted into the room slowly, giving Nagito a small smile. In his hands, a plate with perfectly toasted bread, a small bit of butter and jam-Hajime had made breakfast for him.

_ H-hi Hinata-kun  _

_ Hey Nagito- _

The two sat in a comfortable silence, handing off the food, Hajime pulled his chair to the edge of the bed.

_ How are you doing Nagito? _

Nagito sighed, closing his eyes, trying to remember how he got into this situation, he was in Hinata’s bed-why he couldn’t remember last night no matter how hard he tried- they didn’t have- nope, he stopped his thought instantly, sighing out a reply,

_ I’ll be honest Hinata-kun, I don’t know, I can’t remember how I got here. _

Hajime grimaced slightly, unable to respond.

_ I don’t know what I did Hinata-I apologize if I inconvenienced you-I shouldn’t be intruding on your morning, I should go. _

Nagito attempted to move, and Hajime reached for his hand.

_ Nagito-don’t, er,,don’t leave just yet. _

Nagito nodded, adjusting back down, he signed gently.

_ If it isn’t a hassle for you Hinata- can you tell me what happened last night- I cannot remember. _

Hajime sighed, he breathed, he grabbed Nagito’s hand, slowly recounting the events of the night from his perspective.

_ I-I was really gone for three days, huh-? I didn’t mean to worry you, someone as worthless as me shouldn’t be as big of a worry, especially with the-current season for emotional weakness. _

He was trying to avoid this, Hajime knew the ways Nagito tried to deflect his issues over the years, thankfully Hajime was wiser. 

_ Nagito- listen,,I uh, I heard the breakdown you had last night- you, you kept screaming about a lot- I want to do my best to understand,and to help you.  _

* * *

Nagito breathed slowly, taking in what Hajime had said, carefully considering his options.

_ Maybe we should pay a visit to my room? I-I should start this from the beginning. _


	2. Adora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recount of early childhood, & a first love

Nagito’s room had a layer of fine, thin dust. Hajime found this surprising, given that the man was quite the clean freak, always staying after to wash dishes in the restaurant or sweep the floors. Hajime drew in the dust absentmindedly, as Nagito scoured the shelves that contained his journals and favorite literature

_ I’m sorry-I haven’t had a chance to clean in some time. _

Hajime simply nodded alright, he couldn’t fault the man, all things considered. He listened to the soft hums coming from Nagito, and watched the man’s slender fingers skip across the thick, well used books.

* * *

_ Hinata, I have a question for you! _

Nagito bounded out of the library, several books between his side.

_ Huh-? What’s up? _

_ Do you know if I’d get in trouble for keeping some of these _

Nagito flashed the books at Hajime, leaden, dark things with fancy gold scrawl. Nagito was a dedicated reader, loving history of times long past, long drawn mysteries, and heart aching thrillers.

_ I mean,,they aren’t romance novels or occult books, or mechanical guides right? _

Nagito shook his head quickly, a wobbly, nervous smile graced his face.

_ No! Of course not! I would hate to strip others of any useful material! _

Hajime smirked, because the romance advice books Kazuichi read were clearly very useful.

_ Go ahead Komaeda, I’m sure no one will miss them. _

Nagito beamed, holding the books close to his chest.

_ Thank you Hinata-kun _

Hajime simply smiled, watching the man sonter to his cabin.

* * *

_ Hajime- I found it. _

Nagito’s pale hands were clinging to a thick, worn, dark journal. Hajime recognized the binding, it was his handiwork, well, Izuru’s, but that’s just about the same at this point.

Hajime moved to the bed, sitting on it’s edge.

_ How long ago did you finish that one Nagito? _

Nagito sighed, running his hands against the spine tracing his hand against the leather.

_ About three months ago I believe, it was a short start for me, but I got into it-after the surgeries. _

Hajime remembered it well, countless hours working on Nagito’s presenting illnesses, and removing that disgusting, rotting hand.  ** _Her hand. _ ** Outfitting Nagito with the proper prosthetics. Nagito woke up, blurry eyed and tired, remembering the suggestion Naegi had gave him, Hajime was well aware of the request, and thus, the journal sat on the industrial hospital night stand with a fresh fountain pen. 

In Nagito’s early state of delirium, he did nothing more than write how he was feeling, and what he was doing. As the days went on, he healed further, the results were looking good and Hajime’s smile wavered less and less, Nagito began to write more, not wanting to risk any chance of sudden deterioration, a work he had heard Izuru mumble in the dead of night, as him and Hajime attempted to work off the tiresome hours of his treatment. He just had to start from the beginning.

* * *

_ I’m an only child. _

Nagito sat down on the bed gently, giving Hajime a good half foot between them. He ran his hand against the page, denoted with a number  7 .

_ It was just myself, my mother, and father. We lived in a small place, just out of the city. _

Hajime nodded, he watched the somewhat grim smile on Nagito’s face, the eyes that screamed a sense of dissociation. 

_ My parents were successful people, smart people, my father worked as an international stocks broker, my mother was an accountant, that often worked overseas. _

Hajime knew of Nagito’s family, in the bare minimum sense, rather rich, hard working people.

_ They never planned on having children. _

Hajime turned suddenly, looking to Nagito, seeing the forced smile the man held now dropped.

_ They didn’t want kids? Then how- _ Nagito cut him off suddenly

_ My parent’s marriage was never one of love, I don’t think, for them, it was a convenience, and business benefit at the least. One “idiotic night of misguided drunken passion” later, I come into existence. _

Hajime winced at the quote, knowing the personal tone meant it had been something said to him.

_ My parents-ah, they weren’t excited, but they figured they could keep me around, pass on the legacy since I was a boy and all. I was born, and then my parents were off to work, when I was younger, I barely remember them being around, I had asked my mother what my first words were, her answer: “I have no idea.” _

Hajime felt a bubbling of anger, what kind of parents put that little effort in, how could his own mother not care?

Nagito must have noticed the furrow in Hajime’s eyebrows, because he sighed softly.

_ It’s alright really, I figured it out pretty young, it wasn’t like they had much emotional attachment to me, they just saw me as an obligation. I did get a dog to fill the void. _

* * *

_ Here _ , Nagito’s father looked down at the young boy, no older than four.  _ This is for you. She is your responsibility, don’t you dare let her ruin the house. _

A small, golden fluffy puppy creeped from behind the man, her wide black eyes looked towards the boy, and Nagito smiled brightly. 

_ Thank you! _

His father simply hummed, walking off without a second thought.

The puppy creeped forward slowly, nervous in her new environment. Nagito, gentle, small Nagito kneeled down, putting his tiny hand out to the dog.

Slowly, the puppy walked forward, nuzzling her head against his palm.

Nagito beamed, warmed by the newfound affection. 

_ Friend. _

The pair, Nagito and his golden puppy would spend their days together, despite her age, she never gave the family much trouble, she ate, she slept, and she gave Nagito something he hadn’t experienced before.

Companionship.

She’s sit with Nagito as he played with blocks, she would follow when he got up for dinner alone, she would curl in his lap as Nagito read, she laid against his side as he slept at night, she’d lick away the tears, and provide the warmth and love he so rarely received. 

Leaving her on trips was the worst.

Nagito was always dragged along on his parents business trips, it started with bringing him along as a baby, the trade deals and meetings always seemed to go better when the white-haired baby was brought along, and his parents ran with it. It persisted throughout his childhood, being taken on trips, quietly sitting outside meeting rooms, he’d be allowed one or two books a trip, whatever he could fit in his small backpack.

Nagito looked forward to nothing more than to see his girl again, to cuddle up with her and experience that warmth. In a way, it was one of his earlier saving graces.

* * *

Nagito had turned ten a few months ago, his puppy, now grown big and slower. Nagito noticed her changes of course, he spent so much time with her after all.

As time went on, his trips with his parents got longer and longer, success after success, until there wasn’t.

It was a long meeting, a very long meeting. He had been sitting in a small chair against the wall, the dull noise of his mother discussing with an odd-accented man. He had finished his books, simply staring at a random page, he was tired, so very tired. He slipped, pushing himself to stay awake at his mother’s insistence. 

He could hear his mother’s voice rise, as with the man on the other side of the table. He continued to slip, his eyes resting closed for seconded at a time.

** _Instead of arguing, why don’t you take care of your own son!_ **

Suddenly, both pairs of adult eyes were on the tired boy, he tried his best to sit up straight, make it look like he was doing what he was told.

His mother stood up suddenly, snatching her son by his frail wrist.

_ This meeting is over! _

And that is was. Nagito was ushered into the chauffeur’s vehicle, with his mother refusing to even look at him.

They made it home without issue, and Nagito, true to a ten year old’s mindset, raced to the door to see his treasured pet. He reached for the door, excited as can be, but as the door opened, no dog was waiting for him.

He moved to put his backpack away, searching the house for her, not in his room, not in the living room, her big, soft bed was gone, her food bowl nowhere to be seen.

He creeped up, looking for his parents in the kitchen.

_ Mommy, Daddy, where’s Adora? _

His mother glared down at him, not making the slightest attempt to speak.

_ She’s gone Nagito. _

His father spoke bitterly, looking down upon the child.

_ Huh? What do you mean- _

His father snapped, his face turned in anger,

_ She’s gone Nagito. Dead. Do not make me repeat myself. _

Nagito’s eyes snapped to the floor. Dead.  ** _Dead._ ** Nagito simply nodded, moving slowly back to his room.

He climbed into his bed, he dared not to make a sound, despite the warm tears rolling down his cheeks.

The bed was cold, untouched in the days he was gone. 

He almost thought he could feel her, laying against his side.

But she was gone.

* * *

Nagito sighed softly, unaware of the horrified look on Hajime’s face.

_ I ruined that meeting for my Mom, she lost out on a lot of money, and my poor poor dog,she passed while I was away, I left her alone. _

Hajime wanted to argue, though Nagito couldn’t see it, he could tell just how vile his parents where. But he knew it wouldn’t do Nagito any good.

_ Nagito, I’m really sorry, it sounded like you loved Adora a lot. _

Nagito smiled, the shininess in his eyes reflecting off of the now early-rising sun.

_ I did, she was my special girl-I’d love to have another pet some day, if it wasn’t for my luck of course. _

Hajime paused-he blamed himself for her death, he blamed his luck. It must have been one of the first times Nagito made the connection between his luck and something bad.

_ Nagito- _ Hajime had to go about this carefully, not to worsen the feelings of guilt Nagito was harboring.

_ You gave here a full life, a life full of love, she loved you so so much, and you did the same for her. I know,,when you’re ready, you’d take amazing care of a new pet, and you’d provide them with the same amount of love you gave Adora. _

Nagito smiled weakly, sighing as he shut the book softly.

_ Thank you Hajime-for listening, and your reassurance. _

The early morning light bore into their skins. Slivers of silver and gold peaked through the dusty blinds. Hajime nodded, he set his hand against Nagito’s, looking into his gentle eyes.

_ You get some rest Nagito, we can pick this up later, okay? _

Nagito slowly closed his eyes for a moment, taking in his emotions & Hajime’s suggestion.

_ Alright. We’ll talk again when I wake up. _

Hajime felt a gentle squeeze on his palm. He watched as Nagito stood, putting the journal back in its place in the bookshelf.

Hajime was sent on his way quietly, as he shut the door, he watched Nagito remove his jacket, getting ready to settle into the bed.

Hajime thought to himself, if what he was doing would help Nagito, in all reality, no matter how analytical Izuru was, no matter what talents laid dormant in his head, all Hajime cold do was hope


	3. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nagito suffers a nightmare, and Hajime stays.

** _Blood, you’ve seen it plenty of times Komaeda. _ **

** _You can’t scream, it will draw their attention._ **

** _Everything has to be set up perfectly, the plan won’t work otherwise._ **

** _They’re coming. _ **

** _It hurts..it burns,,no-nononono_ **

** _You deserve this. _ **

Nagito shot up with a start. His lungs burnt under the lightness of the cold morning air. Despite the temperature, he was drenched. His first instinct was to move his hair and grab his throat.

** _Why is nothing moving, where-wherewherewhere whywhywhy wheremyhandnononoithurts_ **

Nagito’s breathing became shallow, strained painful. His eyes darted around the room harshly. His body shook under the frigid air, he threw the covers back suddenly, attempting to stand, despite a black void filling his eyes. 

Nagito hit the ground with a crash.

* * *

** _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ **

Hajime groaned, pulling the covers close turning on his side 

** _Bang! Bang! BANG!_ **

Hajime groaned out a frustrated  _ What? _

_ Hajime open the fucking door! _

Hajime shot up, he recognized the voice as Fuyuhiko’s, and rushed to the entrance of the cabin.

_ Fuyuhiko what the hell is going on? _

_ It’s Nagito man, Imposter and Gundham heard a crash and Imposter grabbed me and Mikan there’s a lot of fucking blood man we need help getting him the the hospital. _

Hajime’s eyes went wide, and without another word, he pushed Fuyuhiko to the side and sprinted to Nagito’s cabin.

* * *

_ I-if I hhhad tto guess- _

Mikan was trembling slightly, still dressed in her nighttime garb.

_ I ttthink h-he had a ppanic a-attack,,elevated hheartrate and a lack of o-oxygen seems tthe mmost l-likely cause. _

Hajime cringed, Imposter and Fuyuhiko glanced uncomfortably.

Hajime looked up, sighing gently,

_ Any idea on when he’ll be awake? _

Mikan looked down at the floor,

_ N-no,,I’m sorry. _

Hajime closed his eyes, breathing in slowly,

_ It’s alright-you guys should rest, thank you for your help Mikan, Imposter thank you for helping us get him to the hospital, Fuyuhiko, thank you for getting me. I think I’ll take care of it from here. _

The three of them nodded, Mikan scurried out quietly, Imposter left with tense shoulders and a perturbed look, but Fuyuhiko stayed behind.

_ Hajime-he’s gonna be okay, he’ll be okay eventually-right? _

Hajime chuckled internally. What was  okay  for them? How do you recover from what they did? Hajime closed his eyes, letting a long held breath out of his nose.

_ Well, I don’t really know,,but I’m going to do my damndest, he deserves-he deserves some normality in his life. _

Fuyuhiko nodded grimly,

_ Yeah-ya know, as much as I give him crap sometimes-he’s still, he’s not horrible- he doesn’t deserve this. _

Fuyuhiko gave Hajime a hard slap on the back.

_ I’ll see ya later Haj-tell Nagito I hope he feels better when he wakes up. _

Hajime nodded silently, watching Fuyuhiko step out of the hospital doors.

* * *

His head hurt. Nagito tried to groan out, but it came out scratchy and pained. 

_ Here.  _

A soft voice spoke to him, in his limited field of view, he saw a tanned, scarred hand, holding a glass of crystal clear water.

_ H-hey Hajime. _

Hajime’s smile was always nice. Something Nagito took pleasure in seeing, though this smile was perverted, a twinge of pain and sadness.

_ Here, drink this slow, it will help your throat. _

Nagito took the glass in his left hand gently, he noticed the lack of his prosthetic, and chose not to comment.

The water was barely cold, resting closer to room temperature, but it went down smooth, sliding down his throat, it felt grounding.

_ Do you need anything? _

He looked up to Hajime, and for a moment, he was captivated by Hajime’s eyes.

Green, the passionate, caring, competent man that was Hajime Hinata. Nagito had once envied Hajime, seeing his closeness to his peers, seeing his carefreeness, his ability to rise above without the expectations of a talent.

Red. Cold, calculating, bored. Izuru Kamukura was truly an enigma. They held every single talent, but they had no emotions or conviction to use them. He takes an interest in the interesting, immersing themselves into something until the creeping feeling of boredom plagued their existence. 

Love-no that couldn’t be right, love wasn’t something obtainable for him, Nagito knew this. Nagito also recognized it wasn’t idolatry either. At one point in his life, Nagito had put Izuru on a godly pedestal, and his envy of Hajime’s freedom from his talents were recognized, but now, Nagito knew better. While his deep passion for Hajime and Izuru remains, he recognizes that they are not perfect, certainly, everyone on the island has their own atonement to be made for their actions, and the pair was no exception to that rule.

Nagito knew his luck was torremolinos, but one thing he felt truly, truly lucky for, was having both of these people in his life.

_ Nagito-Nagito! _

Nagito blinked suddenly. He had been staring.

_ Ah-I’m sorry Hajime-I just spaced out. _

Hajime breathed a sigh of relief,

_ Oh thank god- I was worried about your head. _

Nagito tensed-has he hit his head?

_ Hey don’t worry-you uh-you did fall-but it was only bloody nose, nothing serious. _

Nagito closed his eyes. Trying his best to remember what got him here.

** _You deserve this._ **

His eyes shot open-in an instant, he felt tears well in his eyes.

Hajime turned suddenly, grabbing Nagito’s hand.

_ Nagito-are you okay?! What’s wrong? Do I need to get Mikan? _

Nagito shook his head violently, a dull pain rang in his skull, he looked at Hajime in desperation.

_ Nightmare- it was a nnightmare. _

Nagito was shaking, he clearly shrunk in the hospital bed, staring at his hand in horror.

He felt a hand graze his back, and suddenly without warning, he was pulled in to the white cotton of Hajime’s shirt.

Fingers ran through his hair, arms snaking around his back. Nagito breathed, closing his eyes quickly, attempting haphazardly to catch his breath, he listened to the steady beat of Hajime’s heart as the man spoke.

_ I have you-I have you. You’re safe, I’m not letting you get hurt again. _

Nagito clutched Hajime’s shirt with his hand, gentle sobs filled the room, and Hajime kept a steady hand on Nagito’s back.

With Nagito pressed to his chest, he couldn’t see Hajime’s face, a face of pure sadness, anger, and drive. Hajime felt desperation, punching the savior complex out of his head, he simply wanted nothing more than to be there for Nagito. No matter what, it hit him suddenly.

He had to stay by Nagito’s side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really just buildup to next chapter I'm writing basically right now. For a hint, the next chapter is entitled: Crash


	4. Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trigger, memories, and a conversation

Nagito was released from the hospital later that afternoon, with him and Hajime walking together. Hajime dreaded walking back into the room, despite the lack of serious injury, Nagito bled easily, and the floor was drenched in a disgusting neon pink when they carried him out. 

As Nagito pushed open the door, Hajime was shocked to see the floor void of pink. The carpet was as grey as it had always been, the wood dry and orderly. 

He likely owed Fuyuhiko, Imposter and Mikan big time.

Hajime shut the door slowly behind him, watching Nagito flip on the light switch and pull a hoodie out of the closet. 

Nagito’s eyes looked exhausted, tired and pained. A part of Hajime wanted to leave him be, but something in his gut urged him to stay.

_ Nagito- do you need anything? _

Nagito turned, giving his best attempt at a weak smile before turning his eyes down to the floor.

_ Ah-don’t worry Hajime, I’m fine-really. _

Hajime breathed out and closed his eyes,   
_ Come on Nagito. _

Nagito chuckled weakly, knowing he wouldn't be able to get out of it.

_ I uh-I’m pretty hungry. _

Suddenly a loud rumble came from deep in Nagito’s stomach.

_ Alright, dinner it is. _

Hajime walked to the small kitchenette, and began looking at the cabinets and fridge.

Nagito stood up to stand next to him,

_ Ah-you aren’t going to find much of anything in there.  _

Hajime sighed, and turned to him with a pleasant face. 

_ Wanna go grocery shopping with me? _

* * *

In a way, Nagito appreciated how domestic this felt. Hajime had went to grab a coat, a blazer of Izuru’s that sat perfectly across his shoulders. Nagito kept his hands in his pockets, shivering slightly against the frigid air, the cold was never his friend. 

Hajime turned to him, offering him a gloved hand,

_ Cold? _

Nagito nodded, taking hand, but suddenly, he was pulled in close to Hajime’s side.

Hajime smiled at him, whether it was the air or something else that brought the red to his cheeks, Nagito couldn't tell. 

_ This blazer is a space heater, I wanted you to be warm, plus Izuru kept mentioning how my internal temperature is probably much higher than yours and I wanted him to shut up.  _

Nagito laughed at the comment,

_ Thank you Hajime, you too Kamukura-kun. _

The pair walked into the market, the sliding doors and artificial heat greeting them.

The market wasn’t empty, with a few of the islands inhabitants strung around the shelves.

Hajime listened close, Mitari was groaning about being dragged out by his partner, being forced to take a break from animating. Souda and Gundham were stood in the beauty section, not so subtly arguing about finding the right bleach and annoyingly neon pink hair dye. 

Hajime led Nagito to the produce, while Nagito held a black basket in his free hand.

_ I figured I’d make soup? Something easy to store for later too? _

Nagito smiled, agreeing to Hajime’s proposal. 

They walked around the shelves, Hajime muttering off ingredients and internal disagreements with Izuru. For once, Nagito didn’t feel his mine race, his eyes did scan the shelves, but they mostly focused on Hajime. 

He was grateful for the lack of talking, Hajime’s presence always had calmed him down, and he provided a lot of opportunities for him to just think and take his mind off of whatever else might be going on. Right now, Nagito watches his hand, pale and boney, being stroked softly by Hajime’s gloved hand. He’s surprised that Hajime hadn’t pulled away, but he doesn’t bring it up, the contact and warmth is nice, why give it up?

Hajime led him to the protein section, and Hajime turned to him suddenly,

_ You don’t eat meat, right? _

Nagito smiled at him, walking closer to the meat.

_ Yeah-but you should probably enjoy eating it too right? Go ahead and grab what you like. _

Hajime shook his head, reaching or a package of tofu.

_ No, this is for you, so I’ll make it so you can enjoy it. _

Nagito felt grateful, and he smiled and nodded back at him.

* * *

Hajime was glad Nagito didn’t mention the hand holding, Hajime was surely too embarrassed to do so. The two walked home-Hajime shook his head, it was not his place, it was Nagito’s, though Hajime recognized the homey feel of the pale man’s cabin.

Walking through the door, Hajime set his half of the groceries by the cabinet, shrugged off his blazer throwing it to the couch, and began to unpack the bags.

Nagito stood next to him, silently taking the different groceries that would have uses in the future, and storing them away.

Hajime felt unsettled by the silence, despite how peaceful it was, sometimes he needed a little noise.

_ Hey Nagito-do you have anything that plays music? _

Nagito looked up quizzically,

_ I think I might have my old IPod lying around? _

Hajime smiled, watching Nagito wall off to dig through the drawers. 

A rise of violins and horns met Hajime’s ears with surprise.

_ Fair warning, this is all stuff I listened to in high school. _

Hajime chuckled, turning to face Nagito,

_ Don’t worry, I listened to some major emo music in high school- nothing is worse than that. _

Nagito set the iPod down on the kitchen counter, joining Hajime back in the kitchen. 

_ Need any help? _

Hajime held up a knife, 

_ Do you wanna cut- _

Nagito stepped back suddenly, eyes bulging wide. 

* * *

A vacation! An actual vacation. It was a miracle honestly, his parents agreeing to take time off and travel. San Cristóbal was beautiful, the water being warm and comforting, food and relaxation, even his parents were pleasant, no arguments or fights, no luck incidents.

Nagito felt happy. 

Nagito shifted in his seat, sat a row behind his parents, the airplane had began its takeoff about an hour ago, and his sleepiness was beginning to set in.

Nagito wouldn’t be able to identify many details about the men who hijacked the plane, but he remembered a few things.

Rough, calloused hands gripped his thin wrist, squeezing tight.

Thin, cold, steel pushed against his throat, pinning him from moving.

The loud screams- the  _ put your fucking heads down  _ and  _ take us to the cabin or the kid dies. _

He remembers the gasps from his mother and father.

He remembers being led by the man and the flight attendants.

He remembers being thrown into the bathroom, screaming, yelling, fighting,

He remembers heat,

Then there's darkness.

* * *

Nagito clattered back suddenly away from the knife wielding Hajime, backing into the counter, sending the glass bowls set upon the counter top crashing downwards.

Hajime felt his body rush forward, his arm throwing the knife back into the sick.

** _Huh-I’m not doing thi-_ **

** _I can handle this._ **

Izuru moved forward with an ultimate agility, catching Nagito before his head smacked against the wood floor.

_ Komaeda- _

Nagito was wide eyed, clutching to Hajime’s arms

_ K-kamukura? _

Izuru nodded, gently moving Nagito to the ground and lowering himself to match.

_ I apologize on Hajime’s behalf, we did not know the knife would be a trigger for you. _

Nagito nodded, still holding on to Hajime’s forearm weakly,

_ I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting it either. _

Izuru nodded, seemingly taking that information and saving it for later.

_ I will be able to finish dinner quickly, if you would like, you may rest, I will get you when it is ready. _

Nagito stared for a moment, despite sharing the same body, everything about Izuru was different, his cadence in his voice, his posture, his resting expression, at this moment, Nagito was a little grateful for Izuru instead of Hajime-the lack of a lot of emotional attention was comforting.

Nagito nodded slowly, bracing himself against Izuru to stand.

_ Your heart rate is high Komaeda, take some time to breathe, I believe Hajime put water in the fridge. _

With that, Izuru went to their own devices, like nothing happened, they continued to prepare the broth and chop the vegetables accordingly.

Nagito walked to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, slowly shutting the door and walking to the couch. Lying down slowly, he pulled the blanket he leaves on top of the back of the couch, and closed his eyes.

* * *

The smell of fuel and metal burned his nose.

The darkness, the hunger, the foul stench, Nagito hated it. He wanted out, all he wanted was to get out.

For the most part, his time in the darkness of the airplane was spent in a fuzzy, painful haze, maybe he smelled blood, his head definitely hurt, hunger sat in several times over.

Nagito would close his eyes, hoping soon he wouldn’t be conscious to register the smell and pain.

Several days later, the darkness still wrapped around him like a smothering blanket, Nagito heard noises.

_ Recovering bodies is our first priority. _

Nagito turned to the voice, the weakness in his neck straining against him, with all his might, in a short, coarse voice, he shouted

** _Help!_ **

Nagito leaned back against the wall, fatigued beyond compare, breaking slow, struggles breathes.

A man with strong arms and a thick black coat freed him from the plane, he looked to his face, but the fuzziness was getting to much to bare. His eyes drifted-his world went black

* * *

The news would tell you there was a single, 12 year old survivor.

Nagito woke up in hospital, bandages head and a wrist in a cast.

A short, stout blonde woman sat next to him, holding a book in her hand.

_ Hello Komaeda-it’s good to see you awake. _

Nagito groaned his throat scratchy and pained from disuse.

_ Sorry-let me get you some water! _

The woman stood up, he noted her dressed up attire, smooth black skirt and blazer, plain black flats.

_ Where’s- _

Nagito coughed into his shoulder

_ Where’s my mom-where’s my dad? _

The woman turned, her pleasant expression falling instantly,

_ Komaeda sweetheart-I’m going to be your social worker from now on-your parents-they didn’t make it in the plane crash. _

Nagito stared-memories rushing back to him at a breakneck pace.

The woman walked to his side, sitting in the chair next to him, she grabbed his hand, but Nagito didn’t register. Nagito stared he stared at the wall & shook in his hospital bed, whether he cried, Nagito couldn’t remember, but the pain, fear, sadness, and disgust that washed over him were feelings he could never forget.

* * *

Nagito woke up with pressure on his shoulder, he wasn’t startled, knowing who’s had it was.

_ Hello Kamukura  _

Izuru nodded to him, offering him a hand off the couch.

_ Ready for dinner? _

Nagito took his hand, nodding his head.

The two sat it relative silence, Nagito found it peaceful.

The soup was excellent, he felt bad for dissing the Ultimate Cook among their ranks, but Izuru’s cooking couldn’t be beat.

Izuru leaned back in their chair, closing their eyes and rolling their neck.

Nagito set his spoon down in his bowl,

_ Are you alright Kamukura? _

Izuru turned their head, releasing a break,

_ You are welcome to call me Izuru, Komaeda _

Nagito sat up straighter, though his relationship with Izuru wasn’t as damaging as it used to be, it wasn’t perfect either

_ Then, I suppose you should call me Nagito, huh? _

Izuru nodded slowly,

_ I suppose so. But to answer your question, I’m just trying to get comfortable it’s not too often I get to share the outside perspective if the head space. _

Nagito nodded, though he didn’t completely understand just how the situation with Hajime and Izuru worked-though he did his best to support them both.

_ It’s nice to hear from you at least, Hajime brings you up when you two argue about something or when Hajime starts mumbling to himself. _

Izuru chuckled softly,

_ Hajime really enjoys debating. _

Nagito chucked back, believe him-Nagito knew that well.

Izuru pushed their chair back standing up and grabbing their finished bowl,

_ Are you finished? _

Nagito looked into his bowl, the soup now lukewarm, despite how good it tasted, his lack of appetite still got to him.

_ Yeah, here, thank you _ .

Nagito pushes his bowl to Izuru and stood up.

_ Let me help with the dishes since I was useless earlier. _

Izuru hummed an approval, and moved back to the kitchen, Nagito following closely behind,

_ Would you like to wash, or dry Nagito? _

Izuru set the bowls in the sink, Nagito reached to a drawer, pulling out a pair of yellow rubber gloves, holding them up and slipping them onto his hands.

_ I’ll wash. _

The two began to work, Nagito washing, Izuru drying, relative silence minus the spray of the water and the quiet music playing from Nagito’s iPod.

* * *

Nagito crashed down onto the couch, Izuru descending slowly onto the cushion next to him. Nagito sighed out,

_ I’m shockingly exhausted but I have no conviction to sleep. _

Izuru turned to him with a raise of an eyebrow,

_ Is there anything you’d like to do? I could leave you be so you can gain that conviction. _

Nagito leaned his head back, his head resting against the back of the couch, closing his eyes, he spoke,  _ Izuru, there is something I wanted to ask you-  _ Izuru, nodded, allowing him to continue, Nagito sighed,  _ How-How do you deal with it all, like-we’ve all talked about it at this point, how we coped with everything-but no one ever asked you.  _

Izuru closed his eyes, his hands came together, his calloused fingers running over his scarred knuckles.

_ You-you understand why I am the way I am, right Nagito?  _ Nagito nodded, Izuru continued,  _ Emotions, those aren’t something I was intended to feel or express. At first, I believed I was unable to feel things like regrets, grief, sadness.  _ Izuru let out a shaky breath,  _ Unfortunately, despite the scientific efforts performed on me, that wasn’t entirely true, I experience emotions, however, those emotions are not my own, I-  _ Izuru’s eyes shifted away from Nagito,  _ Despite every talent I have- I will be unable to ever truly understand my emotions.  _ Izuru’s head snapped back, their eyes staring deeply into Nagito’s.  _ I envy you Nagito. _

Nagito jumped suddenly,  _ H-Huh. _

_ I said, I envy you. Unlike myself-you are fully capable of experiencing the range of emotions that may haunt you-I am aware of the damages that may give you, all things considered, though I would take that over my existence subjecting Hajime to face all of the emotional trauma for the both of us, my numbness, in a sense, is one of my biggest flaws. _

Nagito didn’t know what to say-how could he say anything, in a way, Izuru and him were polar opposites-Nagito knowing that his spectrum of emotional struggles has been a point of contention for him for years, it made him feel almost guilty-though it still hurt, Nagito had the freedom to feel, Izuru doesn’t.

_ Izuru, I don’t know what to say- _

Izuru stood up, giving Nagito a peaceful, neutral look,

_ I didn’t expect a grandiose response, I felt that it was something I was meant to express to you, in this time Hajime has been helping with your recovery, I have been there with him, I have been aiding where I can, of course when Hajime stops being a stubborn idiot. _

Nagito chuckled softly, Izuru offered him a hand,

_ Know that I am aware how difficult your recovery is, but by all accounts, in ways, you are getting better. _

Nagito, took Izuru’s hand in his own metallic hand, standing up,

_ Know, thus far, the process of your recovery has been the most ideal outcome. _

Izuru ran his thumb across the hand of his design, if Nagito didn’t know any better, he could almost feel it, and he accepted the heat that rose to his cheeks.

Izuru’s hand pulled away slowly, their multicolored eyes aligning with Nagito’s green,

_ Good night Nagito, get adequate rest tonight. _

Nagito smiled a feeling of lightness surrounding him,

_ Good night, Izuru.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought i'd take this section to explain how I thing Hajime and Izuru switches work, along with his mental head space.
> 
> Unlike Toko and Syo, in which their switches are involuntary, there is a degree in which Hajime will willfully switch to Izuru when the situation when it is called for, or Izuru will force switches when they feel he is more useful/could be more helpful in a situation, though that circumstance happens rarely, only when Izuru takes interest in the situation (like Nagito's collapse in the chapter). It is established that the scientists took away Izuru's capacity to feel emotions due to the disrupt of Hajime's psyche during the Kamukura project, but with the post game integration of both of their mental states, Izuru still cannot outwardly express emotions or understand them, but that does not free Hajime from the emotions he feels, or the memories of what Izuru did during the tragedy. Essentially, Hajime experiences the emotions for both him and Izuru, and it is extremely emotionally taxing. The two aren't a perfect system, hence bickering and Hajime's stubbornness and Izuru's dry sense of logic without emotion, but they have adjusted nicely post game.
> 
> Thank you for reading the chapter! this one was a longer one that went in a direction I wasn't planning on at first, but a few points addressed in this chapter from Nagito's dreams and the recounting of the plane crash, along with points in the Izuru and Nagito discussion will be addressed. There's suggestion's of romance here, but that is not my main focus as of currently, but the interactions will have influence over the romantic plot along with the overall goal of discussing Nagito's recovery. I'd like to mention that I really don't believe there needs to be a romantic subplot in order to further Nagito's recovery, but I believe love is an extremely powerful tool in Nagito's arsenal that was stripped from him, so I feel like love is a part of Nagito's character I want to address.
> 
> The next chapter probably will not be out until the new year, but I will probably start it once I post this chapter.
> 
> I hope you have a happy holidays if you celebrate! If you wanna see more of my content follow me on twitter @komaedakinn

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot tell you how proud I am of this piece.


End file.
